


do you still love me?

by thelastavenger



Series: nefelibata [1]
Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Avengers Endgame, Civil War, Endgame, M/M, Other, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2020-02-28 15:17:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18759043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelastavenger/pseuds/thelastavenger
Summary: 2016a lonely night and a phone call following the events of civil war





	1. do you still love me?

A shrill, unfamiliar sound cut through the air. Steve, being half asleep on the couch in front of the quiet, dim television, took a moment to register it. He pushed himself up, his body still aching. Three weeks had passed since the fight in Siberia and he was still limping, still dreaming about the fear in Tony’s eyes when his mask came off, wishing he hadn’t been the one to make Tony feel that way. He was supposed to be on the other side, right? Fighting for Tony, not against him. But Bucky means the world to him. He is the only tangible connection Steve has to his past. Tony knew this and fought him anyway. How was Steve supposed to feel about that? 

Steve rushed around the apartment searching for the source of the ringing and the closer he got to his bedside table, the closer he came to realizing where the sound was coming from. It was the burner phone. 

In all his years of fighting, confrontation and stress, Steve had never felt as afraid as he did in that moment. His body began to tremble and his hands shook as he dug the phone up from beneath scattered papers and unread books, not hesitating for a moment and flipping it open quicker than he could check who was calling. He knew. There was no one else it could be. 

“Tony?” Steve said, his voice trembling, adrenaline pumping through his veins. There was a deep breath on the other end of the call, a deep, shaky breath. 

“Steve.” His voice was low. He sounded tired. 

“Tony, are you okay? Is everything okay? Are you-”  
“Steve. Steven Rogers, Captain Rogers, Captain fucking America.” Tony was angry, that much was certain, but what was more worrying was that he was slurring his words.  
“Tony...are you-are you drunk?” Steve asked, his stomach dropping. Tony began to laugh. “Tony.” Tony was in hysterics now, his laughter full of venom and anger. “Tony. Are you drunk?” Steve urged Tony to answer, his hand on his head begging Tony to take this seriously. 

The laughter stopped. 

“Drunk. Affected by alcohol to the extent of losing control of one's faculties or behaviour. Yeah. Yeah I’m fucking drunk. Would I call you sober? I mean, God, would I even look at you sober? Probably not. You’re disgusting.” Tony spat. His words cut through Steve and stung far more than any punch Tony had ever landed on him. “I mean, I gave my everything to you. Literally, everything. All of me. Everything I have, everything I am, I shared with you. And you pull this shit on me? You lied. You lied! You’re a fucking liar! You knew Barnes killed my parents. You’d known for years. You kept it from me. And for what? So you could leave me for him when he came back? You kept secrets from me, you didn’t share with me you weren’t there for me. Not when I needed it.” He sounded like he was crying now, but so was Steve, so he couldn’t truly tell. “You never committed to this, to us, because you were waiting for something better to come along. I should’ve known, should’ve known I wasn’t good enough for you to love me, but God I think I just wished so hard that I was, that I started to believe it.” He was laughing again. Steve felt like the floor was being ripped from beneath him. “I started to believe that you loved me, that you wanted me, that you needed me. The way I needed you. But you didn’t. Ever. Isn’t that just fucking hysterical?” 

“Tony, please stop. That isn’t true, I-”  
“Don’t bullshit me Rogers. You never loved me, did you?”  
“Tony, of course I did. You are everything to me and-”  
“Are? Are?! Is that why you damn near killed me not one month ago?!”  
“Tony, you know what Bucky means to me. And you know he didn’t know what he was doing when he did it. I stopped you because I knew you’d regret what you did if you did it and-”  
“Don’t you fucking dare talk to me about regret. You want to know what I regret you want to know what I fucking REGRET?! You. I regret you. This. Us. I wish I never met you, Steve, I really do. For the longest time, I thought I’d never find someone who loved me truly, completely, all of me, everything I had. I thought I had found that in you. I really did.”  
“Tony, you did. I felt that.”  
“No, you didn’t. Because you don’t hurt the people you love. Maybe I was just good for you, for your ego, for your loneliness. But that isn’t love.” Steve dropped to the floor and threw his head into his hands. He was sobbing now, no strong façade, no pretending he was okay. He was sobbing and the love of his life was listening.  
“Tony, please. Please stop. I didn’t keep it from you to hurt you, I thought it was for the best. I really did. I see now that I was wrong but, at the time, I thought it was the only thing I could do.” Steve tried desperately to compose himself. He knew that if he didn’t, he’d fall apart.  
“You know what I regret the most?”  
“Tony. Did you hear what I just said?”  
“Listen to me. You want to know what I regret the absolute most? What I hate myself for? The way that I don’t hate you. Not at all. Not even a little bit. I say I do but I don’t.” Tony started to cry now, his words slurring into one another. “I don’t hate you. I don’t regret us. I just want you to feel the hurt I felt. The hurt I feel, right here, right now. I wish I was with you, I wish I could push you and hit you and kiss you and just fucking love you. I need you, Steve.”  
“Tony, you’re drunk. You clearly don’t know what you’re saying, and-”  
“Oh, here he fucking goes, Mr High And Fucking Mighty. I’m drunk because of you. I broke seven years of sobriety because of you.”  
“Tony, please. Are you alone? Are you at home?”  
“Like you fucking care.”  
“Tony, of course I care.”  
“Whatever, Steve. If you cared, you wouldn’t have done what you did. If you cared, you wouldn’t have chosen him. If you cared...if you cared, we’d still be together.” Tony’s voice broke right there. As much as he tried to hide it, Steve could hear him crying. “I need you, Steve. God, I’m so angry, and I’m shouting and I’m insulting you and I’m telling you I regret this, but...I need you. I need you so bad.” He cried. 

Steve had nothing to say. He wanted Tony too, but he was far too stubborn, far too headstrong to admit it. He had no way to reply, so he just cried. They cried together. 

“What do you say, huh?” Tony took a deep, shaky breath. “One more try. We put our all into it and if it fucks up again, we know we gave it our best shot. No wondering, no regrets.” He whispered, his voice desperate and broken.  
“I don’t want to hurt you again. And I worry that what you’re saying now, you’ll regret in the morning. When you’re sober.” It took everything Steve had not to say yes. To throw caution to the wind, to feel the fear and say fuck it and do it anyway. Because he never wanted to feel the heartbreak of the past few weeks again.  
“This isn’t Avengers business, Steve. It can just be you and me. No one else, nothing else. Just us. No one else needs to know.” Tony whispered, followed by an almost inaudible “please.”  
“Can we talk about it in the morning? Don’t fight me on this – of course we can have this conversation, but I don’t want this decision to be made on the phone and when you’re in this state.”  
“Do you still love me?”  
“Tony. Tomorrow.” Steve insisted, pulling on fists of his own hair to stop himself from completely breaking down.  
“Tomorrow...goodnight.” Tony hung up the phone before Steve could say another word. 

Steve dropped the phone and ran to his balcony door, almost removing it from its hinges as he forced it open and threw himself at the railing. The impact and the minus twenty wind-chill knocked the air from his lungs and forced him to gasp for breath through the tears. He thought back on his life of love and loss, how he wished he could just not feel these things because life would be simpler without them. But how good the highs were. The nights when they went to bed early but caught no sleep. The overwhelming love he felt in the morning waking up next to Tony. Attending briefings together where Tony would fall asleep on his shoulder. 

He spent an hour on the balcony, his head in his hands, shivering, crying, longing. Thinking on what had been, what could be. When he found the strength in himself to turn around and go bad inside, suddenly the Manhattan wind-chill and running into a railing knocking the air out of his lungs wasn’t his biggest problem. 

His front door was wide open. 

And Tony was standing in the entryway. 

“I’m not fucking waiting until tomorrow.” He said. His face was red and his cheeks were puffy – he’d clearly been crying, but it wasn’t until they were face to face that Steve could see just how drunk he was. His hands were shaking and he seemed to be fighting to keep his balance. “I love you. You are everything. Literally everything. If I have you, I need nothing more. I’m sorry for everything I’ve said tonight, everything I’ve called you. I don’t mean any of it. Other than that I love you. God, I love you. You’re the sun, you’re autumn leaves, you’re a southerly wind on a day that’s too fucking hot.” Tony cried and moved closer to Steve.  
“Tony, I-”  
“Just give me a second to say me peace, will you?” Tony ran his shaking hands through his short hair, seemingly trying to compose himself. “Here it is. In the last three weeks, I rebounded. I thought I could just go back to my old ways, erase you with others. But I couldn’t. I’d cry and leave before my second drink. I can’t escape you. You are what I want, no one else. There is nothing I want or need more than this. Us. Remember the day we got up early and watched the sky go from pitch black to sunrise on your balcony?” he gestured toward the balcony and took a step closer. “The time I had to sleep on your floor on that mission because my room was next door to Clint’s and he and Nat were at it like rabbits on Viagra. The time I took you out for a drink because I didn’t believe anyone could be so reserved as you were. These are all moments that I remember clearer than all of the science in the world, because they’re all moments in which I fell in love with you just that little bit more. I can’t let this go, not without another try. Please, Steve.” He begged, now only a few steps from Steve.  
“Tony, I don’t-”  
“Steve.” Tony took another step toward him. “Please. You know this is what’s right. You know that neither of us will be able to move on until we know.” He moved a final step closer to Steve, ending only a foot away. 

Neither man broke eye contact in the following seconds. They seemed to continue their conversation just in their expressions, Steve throwing his weight behind composing himself and Tony looking far more pained, far more honest to the situation. 

“Do you still love me?” Tony asked after a minute of silence broken only by their crying. Steve squeezed his eyes shut, every ounce of his being knowing that the right answer and the truthful answer were not the same. He wasn’t sure if fear was a rival or a close relative to the truth. Tony repeated himself, slowly this time, emphasizing each individual word as he begged for a response from Steve. 

Tears fell from Steve’s eyes as he opened them and connected his soul with Tony’s once more. 

“Yes.”


	2. take me back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 5 years earlier, when Tony Stark is approached and asked to form a team of “remarkable people to do the jobs no one else could”, he will be forced to come face to face with a man who unknowingly effected his life forever.

5 years earlier  


A situation in [REDACTED] presented itself to S.H.I.E.L.D. agents when conducting regular field checks last week. The situation, involving the Red Room’s Agent [REDACTED] and concerning S.H.I.E.L.D.’s own Agent [REDACTED], needed to be dealt with in the swiftest and most efficient way possible. Agent [REDACTED] herself was sent to see to the situation, joined by Agent [REDACTED].  
The operation, that began as a simple recon and [REDACTED], turned out to be something more sinister and needed more time allocated to it’s carrying out. Agents [REDACTED] and [REDACTED] stayed in [REDACTED] for a further six months in order to [REDACTED] the target, [REDACTED]. [REDACTED] eventually conceded after almost a year of pursuit and violence. [REDACTED] civilians were harmed, [REDACTED] killed, with [REDACTED] [REDACTED] also being caught in the crossfire. President [REDACTED] is not happy about this detail in particular.  
Overall, Agents [REDACTED] and [REDACTED] followed out their mission to the best of their ability and managed to [REDACTED] the target.  


“Redacted, redacted, redacted...I’m losing my goddamn mind.” Tony sighed as he tossed the file onto the glass table. “Yelena is dead. So are some civilians, along with a damn Russian diplomat. Putin is pissed, you two had sex.” He looked up from the file as Clint damn near choked on his coffee. “Sound about right?”  
“We, um-”  
“Save it, Romanoff. I’d recognize Barton’s after-sex-glow anywhere.” He smirked. “Anyways, if I have to read the word ‘redacted’ one more time I’ll explode. So, in your own words, how was Budapest?” He asked. Nat looked at him with a flash of shock on her face before a flick of Tony’s eyebrow reminded her that he is one of the smartest people to have ever existed. Of course he knew where they were. No amount of S.H.I.E.L.D. cover-up operations could touch his intelligence.  
The two shared a look and a moment of silence before Nat cleared her throat.  
“Oh, you know,” Nat began, “what was a simple recon mission became something far more, something we didn’t expect. But it went well, we handled it, and, um...” she looked at Clint, a wry smirk flashing on her face, “yeah, it was good. Fine. We’re good.” She bit down on her bottom lip, her foot tapping the ground as she fidgeted and tried to hold back a smile.  
“It was fine, the target was taken out and the threat was eliminated.” Clint stated, matter-of-fact and straight. He clenched his jaw as Tony smirked and tried to tease a moment of weakness out of him.  
“Jeez, for your sake, Romanoff, I hope he isn’t that robotic in bed.” Tony stood from his chair and walked toward the kitchen as Nat laughed and looked away, unable to hide her cheeky smile. 

“That’s all good, guys. I don’t need anything else – you’re good to go.” He paused making coffee and held his hand up to the two of them before either of them had a chance to question him. “I don’t want to have to do any more paperwork. You’re cleared for active duty.” He and Nat shared a look before Clint started to head for the door, Nat following, her eyes on the ground.  


“Before you go anywhere, I have something to show you. Well, a few things.” He said nonchalantly. “Follow me,” he said, heading for a door that the other two hadn’t noticed, almost as if it wasn’t there before.  


In the room that it led to, a short staircase lead down to a vast, open space with black and gold marble floors. To the left of them was a whole wall of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking central park, and, in-front of them, a huge bar designed with the same marble as the floor. Shelves and shelves of alcohol flanked by fridges full of bottled drinks from pale ales to lemonades, rows of champagne and wine glasses accompanied by jars of fruit to garnish, and jars of metal straws and drink decorations. Over to the right, the whole floor had three steps that led down to a seating area, the marble floor covered with a white carpet and accompanied by sofas and chairs that mirrored the gold in the floor. Tucked away in the corner was a fire pit that sunk a further three feet into the floor, a sophisticated filtration and ventilation system hanging from the ceiling, unnoticeable unless you were looking for it.

“You’ve outdone yourself this time, Stark.” Clint smiled.  
“Yeah, I mean, what are you expecting this to turn into? A frat house?” Nat joked, unaware of just how much that comment had hurt Tony. Was his loneliness so obvious that even when he created something so beautiful, it only served as a reminder that no-one would use it?  
“Actually, Ariel, we’re about to have company.” Tony remarked, joking about Nat’s recent return to her natural hair colour in order to deflect her comment.  
“We?” Clint asked.  
“We.” Tony answered, strolling out from behind the bar with a scotch in hand, his coffee abandoned on the counter. “When you two were away, I was approached by Nick Fury regarding a shelved S.H.I.E.L.D. project that he wants to bring back to the table.” He explained, taking short steps toward Nat and Clint on the lower level of the vast floor. “His plan is to bring together a group of so-called “remarkable” people to “do the jobs that we never could”, Tony explained with air quotes, “or something like that. To tell you the truth, I wasn’t really listening. After “remarkable” my mind began to wander. To you two – and to Banner.” Something unidentifiable flashed through Nat’s eyes as her steely-eyed-agent stare returned and denied any feeling from being shown. Banner. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. After all this time, she might see Bruce again? 

“I want the three of you in. And the reason that you two are here, really, is to meet Fury’s other recruits.” He stopped walking and stood in front of them, his eyes telling more of a story than his words ever could. “I really need you guys in on this. And I hate to come between this thing you have going on, but Nat, I need you to go to Banner.” He asked, something of guilt twisting on his face. Nat jumped in before Clint could protest.  
“Of course I will. What happened between Bruce and I if anything, was tiny. And it was years ago. It’s in the past.” She turned to Clint with a reassuring smile and wide eyes. “There’s only one thing in my future.” Clint looked to the floor attempting to maintain the stern look on his face despite his eyes showing the hint of a hidden smile that betrayed him.  
“Thank you, Nat.” Tony smiled. As he walked past them he landed a hand on Clint’s shoulder – an unspoken show of gratitude.  


“So, this is a living space. I figured we could have this as a place of common ground – just somewhere we can be when we want to be together. I think it’s important – you know, for us to bond.” He turned away from them so that they couldn’t see his face – his lonely, desperate face. He’d been alone for so long. “There are rooms – one for each of us. I’ve organized them a certain way but I suppose they’re subject to change – I need to meet everyone first, I guess.” He paced. “And in any case, I suppose–”  
“Tony.” Nat cut him off, placing a hand gently on his shoulder. “You’re being frantic. Is everything okay?” She moved herself so that she was facing him, looking into his eyes.  
“Yeah, yeah...I’m just, I don’t know. Since Pepper and I broke up it’s been pretty lonely. And Fury’s been on my back about this Avengers thing.”  
“Avengers?” Clint asked.  
“That’s what he’s calling it. The Avengers Initiative. It needs to go well. I think SH.I.E.L.D. have a lot riding on it.” He said, continuing to pace, this time back in the direction of the floor-to-ceiling windows installed perpendicular to the bar. “Fury has two other people in mind. One’s some kind of God from another planet and one’s this guy – you might have heard of him, probably not – named Steve Rogers.” Tony said, struggling to hide his anger. His whole childhood had been lived in Steve’s shadow. He had been close friends of Howard’s and any argument that came between Tony and his dad always lead to a comment about Steve. The “great American hero who did something with his life”.  
“Captain America, huh? That’s kind of awesome.” Clint smiled. Tony looked down.

Nat, noticing Tony’s upset and understanding the reasons why, quickly cut through the silence. “Well, I’m in,” she smiled. “Clint?” she looked at Clint with a knowing smile.  
“Getting paid to save the world alongside the universe’s best heroes? Hell yes I’m in.”  


They were quick to settle on the logistics of Banner’s recruitment and the pair’s move into the newfound ‘Avengers Compound.’ Once this had been established, Barton made a move to leave. His hearing aids had been playing up so he was keen to return to his temporary home across the river to get some rest after what had been a trying trip. Nat offered to stay for a drink to keep Tony company and have a debrief like they used to in the old days of working together, but Tony kindly declined. He made his usual excuse of “big things to work on” and having “no time to spare”, with none of it really being true.  


Instead, Tony did the same thing he’d been doing every night for the past three years. He opened up a scotch, drank the contents from the bottle, and fell asleep wrapped in a thick blanket on the couch in his personal living area. The only difference here being that he was in the new Avengers compound, not his own apartment. He had thought that getting settled in there before everyone else arrived would mean he could help them learn the way around and turn it into a home. The sheer size of the building only made his loneliness worse, the brand new king bed occupied by one serving as another reminder that he is ultimately unloved and alone. The couch here was the same as his couch at home - it felt impersonal. It was the best place for him to sleep, and the television provided noise to keep him company. The white noise stopped his thoughts getting too damn loud while the alcohol helped to slow his brain down and allow him to sleep.  


The hours dragged by slowly and when Tony woke up to the deafening sound of his ringtone, he was nothing short of confused. The winter sun illuminated the clear New York sky, beaming in through his panelled floor-to-ceiling windows. When he forced his eyes open into a tight squint, his eyes burned, his head screaming at him to close them. With a groan he forced himself up off the couch, his back aching as though he’d been sleeping on concrete. His legs shook as he navigated his new home, stumbling toward the kitchen, catching himself on the island counter and grabbing at the marble surface in search of his phone.  


“What the-” he muttered as his blurred vision managed to read the words on the screen - NICK FURY. As much as every fibre of his being was urging him to decline, he knew better. It took balls to send Nicky Fury to voicemail. He wished he had the willpower at that moment. He forced himself to hit ‘ACCEPT’ despite the voice in his head screaming at him not to.  
“Change of plans.” Fury asserted quickly, knowing to expect a smartass comment from Tony if he wasn’t quick to state the reason he’d called. “Thanks for getting Nat on board with Banner’s recruitment. She found him, he’s in, and they’re on their way to the compound. Clint is in for a fitting for a new transistor but he’ll be over soon. My recruits will arrive with me, in t-minus fifty minutes. Oh. And thanks for answering. Eventually.” Fury enunciated. Fuck. Tony had sent him to voicemail. More than once, by the sounds of it.  
“Sorry, I was asleep. I, um-”  
“Got too friendly with Jack last night. Yeah.” Fury accused. “Take a shower. Freshen up. I’ll see you soon.” Fury hung up before Tony could get in another word. He dropped his phone onto the counter and slowly walked from the kitchen to the bathroom, trying his hardest to shut off the thoughts that were creeping in; what his father would think if he could see him like this, nursing a hangover and staggering toward the shower, moments from meeting with Captain Steven Rogers, the son Howard had always wished was his.  


The water burned into his skin as he stood dead still, crying into both of his hands. What a fucking mess he’d become, a long ways away from the Tony Stark that is endlessly reported on; the Tony Stark who had been the perfect successor to Howard Stark, the Tony Stark who America trusted with their national security, the Tony Stark that the world wanted to believe in. Right then, in that moment, he felt worlds away from that Tony Stark. He felt like nothing, insignificant, worthless. This Avengers project was the only thing left to give Tony a purpose after all of these lonely years full of dead end projects and breakdowns. This had to work. But how could it? It was tainted by a ghost of Tony’s past that would arrive in the form of Steve Rogers. Would Steve remember Howard the way the public did? Or the way he really was? Steve couldn’t know the intricacies of the abuse Tony suffered. He wouldn’t know about Tony forgetting to eat while Howard and Maria went away for days on end, JARVIS being his reminder. He wouldn’t know about the adolescent drug abuse. He wouldn’t know about the screaming matches, the slammed doors, the thrown punches. But would he understand that Howard wasn’t all he’s now remembered as? Or Tony was about to be forced to work in close quarters with a man who remembered his abusive father as a hero? Tony leaned both hands and his forehead on the tiled bathroom walls as he realised that he would not have an ally in Steve Rogers. He knew that Steve would see Howard as nothing less than a hero. No one did. Only Tony.  


Tony decided that the best way around this situation was to avoid the topic altogether. Of course, it may come up during their initial introductions, but if Tony kept his distance from Steve and, when he couldn’t help that, avoid the topic of his father in conversation, Steve would get the message. As he pulled on a new pair of jeans and layered a long sleeved t-shirt with a short sleeved t-shirt, he ran through all of the possibilities in his head. Steve getting the hint that he didn’t want to talk about his past, Steve firstly insisting and then eventually catching on, all the way to Steve chasing him around like a bunny rabbit desperate to discuss the great Howard Stark, not giving up until Tony literally punched the hint through his throat. After a satisfying chuckle at this image in his head, Tony sat down on his bed, faced with his reflection in the mirror. Look at you, the mess your father turned you into.  


“Sir, Director Fury and Level 3 guests have entered the lobby. Might I suggest you greet them on the 12th floor.” JARVIS’ voice rang out. Tony sighed as he pushed himself up onto his weak and shaking legs, closing his eyes to steady his dizziness before heading to the elevator.  
“Welcome, Mr Stark. Where to?”  
“Living area. Uh-floor...floor 12.”  
“No problem, Sir.”  


As smooth as the elevator ride was, the falling sensation worsened Tony’s nausea, forcing him to grab onto the handrail to steady himself; though he couldn’t really tell the difference between the hangover nausea and the anxious pit of butterflies in his stomach, they were both equally unwelcome and sickening.  


When he stepped off the elevator and into the still unfamiliar and cold living area, he was relieved to find that Fury and his recruits hadn’t arrived before him. The lights turned on as he entered the room, making him wince and groan: “JARVIS, lights to 50%.”  
“Certainly, Sir.”  


The lights dimmed and Tony began to panic. They couldn’t be far away. He ran behind the bar to observe the elevator surveillance footage. 6th floor. That places them approximately 10 seconds away. Where would he stand to greet them? Behind the bar, surprised to see them? At the bar, holding a scotch? At the elevator door, eager and enthusiastic? Nah, Fury would never buy that, he thought to himself and chuckled. Before he could settle on a stance, the right-hand elevator made a sound that cut through Tony’s lonely silence and made his ears ring.  


Shit.


	3. an old friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An old memory comes back to Tony as old feelings resurface.

“Good morning, Stark!” Fury said, his loud and deep voice filling the room, the volume of which Tony knew was deliberately heightened to fuck with him.

“Fury! So nice to see you. I must’ve just missed you last night, y’know, when I left your wife.” Tony replied, his back toward the elevator as he played around with some papers on the bar. 

“Nice try, Stark. I’m not married.” Tony could hear his footsteps as he left the elevator. He couldn’t muster the courage to turn around. “Aren’t you going to greet your guests?” He bellowed.

Tony sighed, squeezed his eyes shut, and mustered all the strength he could to enthusiastically push off the bar and spin around. It it took more strength than he had ever called on before.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen.” Tony smiled, his eyes landing on the man in the middle, the only one who was unfamiliar. 

He was tall - taller than Fury and Rogers. He had shoulder length dusty blonde hair that had lazily been pulled into a half-up half-down style. As he turned his head to observe the room, Tony noticed a messy bun sitting loosely on the back of his head. He wore a white t shirt under a navy blue blazer with trousers of the same colour, expensive brown leather shoes on his feet. Additionally, he was carrying a cane, though, as he walked, it didn’t seem that the cane was strictly necessary.

“Welcome to your new home.” Tony said, his words unenthusiastic, as if admitting to the room that he could never feel at home with Steve here. Tony didn’t just avoid eye contact with Steve - he avoided looking at him altogether. He observed through his periphery that he was wearing a long-sleeved dress shirt with the sleeves cuffed up to his elbows, tucked into black jeans which lead down to simple golden brown boots. He didn’t dare risk observing his face or hair, only taking note of what he could manage to decipher while looking directly at Fury and his other recruit. 

“This is Thor,” Fury said, cutting through the silence that followed Tony’s empty statement. “Of Asgard. He has agreed to work with us provided we grant his brother immunity for his previous criminal actions on earth and cease our pursuit of prosecution.” Fury said.

“His brother being…?” Tony asked. 

“Loki Odinson.” Fury stated. When met with a confused look, Fury assured; “you won’t have heard of him. His crimes are way below your pay grade. Just some low-end smuggling and trafficking of alien technology on and off of Earth.” He explained. “SHIELD agreed to pardon him as we felt that what Thor has to offer us as a unit is far beyond that sacrifice.” Fury raised an eyebrow at Tony.

“If you say so.” Tony remarked.

“And this is Captain Rogers,” Fury began. As quick as he started, Tony walked toward the windows and stared out at Central Park, taking interest in the flight of some fortunate bird. “War hero and long-time friend and asset of SHIELD.” Fury finished.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Tony. After all these years.” He heard the Captain say. The mention of their presumed shared history made the pit in his stomach flutter and sink.

“I’m sure it is,” Tony said, his usual protective screen of arrogance shooting back up. 

Fury spent an hour or so going through the logistics of things in the adjacent briefing room that Stark had only yesterday been talking to Nat and Clint in. They discussed everything from uniforms to mission protocol, all the while Tony made sure to keep his eyes fixed on Fury. He occasionally felt Steve’s eyes burning into him from across the table, but he never faltered. He was afraid of vulnerability after how easy it had proven for other people to hurt him, and he was afraid that if he were to look at Steve, Steve would be able to see inside his soul. He couldn’t let his eyes betray him. Not again. 

Once Nick has finished with the formalities, they headed back through to the bar for a drink. Nick placed himself behind the bar, made himself a drink, and then asked what Steve and Thor wanted. Steve asked for the closest beer and then when Thor asked for a Jack Daniels, Fury looked at Tony and said; “well would you look at that - you two already have something to bond over!” and laughed to himself. When his joke was met with silence from Steve and Thor, Tony excused himself and headed to the bathroom. 

The short walk felt like the nights he’d spend waiting for his mom to come home when it was just himself and Howard in the house; stretched and full of fear, his stomach and vision giving off a feeling of television static. He grabbed onto the walls of the corridors leading to the restroom until he could fall to his knees, grip the bowl and vomit. Fantastic. He considered all of his possible escape routes but even the most mischevious part of his brain knew that he couldn’t leave. 

He walked slowly and unsteadily back toward the door to the living area which burst open just as he reached for the handle. Nick entered and closed the door behind him, walking toward Tony quickly, forcing Tony to retreat until he slammed his lower back against a table. Despite Tony now being in crippling pain, Nick still yelled at him in as hushed a voice as he could manage. 

“I don’t know what kind of shit you’re trying to pull, Stark, but it will not fly. This group has to work out for the sake of my job, Phil’s job, and yours.” He said, a stern finger pointed toward Tony’s face. Tony grabbed his back with one hand and used the other to steady himself on the table, coming face to face with Nick.

“I am not trying to pull anything. You think I’m gonna sabotage your big break? Fat chance. Look around, Fury. I built this shit from the ground up, for you. For this. It will work out.”

“It had better. If it fails, I am not having it land on my shoulders. If it fails, you will be blamed.” He said, turning and heading for the door he entered through. About halfway there he stopped and turned back to Tony. 

“Thor has never worked with SHIELD before so I have to take him to HQ for his Medicals, a psych eval and to officially sign his contract. Steve will be staying here.” Nick’s words caused Tony’s heart to jump into his mouth. “I’m aware of the feelings you harbour toward him, but this is your chance to gain closure for yourself. Think about it - he doesn’t know that you feel this way about him. So the only person you’re hurting by keeping this act up is yourself. So this is an opportunity for you to go out there and leave it all behind. Don’t start this off on the wrong foot.” Tony went to reply but he knew that speaking when Nick had raised his hand to tell him not to would only lead to him being lectured more, so he held his tongue. “Think of all of the wounds that this opportunity is giving you the chance to suture.” He finished, and with that, he walked back into the living area, with Tony slowly and silently following. 

It became apparent that both Steve and Thor were already aware of the plans for the afternoon, which means that it was just another thing that Fury had kept from Tony. Great. After a long, awkward silence, Steve was, of course, the first to speak. 

“It’s really great to finally meet you,” Steve said, turning in his bar stool to face Tony who was standing looking out of the windows. “I’ve heard so much about you over the past year, it’s crazy to me that so soon after everything went down I get to work with you.” He finished.

Tony replayed Fury’s words in his head and forced himself to meet Steve’s gaze.

“Thanks. You too.” His lip curled upward to form a small and brief smile.

“I was really lucky to get to work so closely with your father, and…” as Steve spoke, Tony tuned out. Two sentences. Two fucking sentences it took him to bring up Howard. God fucking dammit. “So I think it’s admirable, the way you took his place so seamlessly. Must’ve been tough.”

As he met Steve’s eyes with his gaze, Tony could see a sympathetic, pitying look in them.

“I’m really sorry about that by the way, it must’ve been horrible.” Steve finished.

“I’m sorry?”

“I just know how hard it is to lose someone close to you, is all.”

“Yeah. Sucks.” Tony said, almost in a whisper. He dragged his eyes up to meet Steve’s and the brief moment of eye contact that followed felt...like home. 

The minutes that followed were silent and tense. Tony could feel Steve nearly speaking several times, but never going through with it. Eventually, Tony was the one to break the silence, in an attempt to break the tension. 

“So how was it having to readjust to a brand new kind of world?” He said. It felt like he had spoken for an hour.

“Yeah, weird. But I had a buddy help me out with things to be on the lookout for, stuff to help me get with the times. Kinda feels like nothing now.” Steve smiled.

“Crazy,” was all Tony could manage in response.

“Yeah, it was. But you’ve had it just as tough, like yeah it was weird having to figure out the way this modern day world works, but it took a shockingly small amount of time. It’s just the world I was in years ago with extra stuff. Whereas you really were thrown into the deep end when Howard passed, from what I’ve heard. Did you really have to just take over straight away?”

“Steve, I...”

“I just mean, like, didn’t you get a grieving period at all?”

“I don’t want to talk about that, take a hint.” The accidental venom in his words made Steve almost visibly recoil.

“I’m sorry, I’m only trying to be a friend—”

“We don’t have to be friends.” Tony cut him off. “We’re colleagues. We’re working together on something that is bigger than the both of us. Friendship doesn’t matter.” Tony spat, regretfully losing his temper with Steve.

“I’m sorry, Rogers.” He conceded almost immediately. “I just don’t want to talk about— I just don’t do— personal talk.” He sighed. He couldn’t bring himself to make eye contact but from where he was looking he could see Steve’s shoulders sink, then he heard a sigh, followed by a quick and clinical “understood.” 

Tony sat down at the table by the unlit fire, flipping through some paperwork. He had no idea what file he was reading - he wasn’t actually reading it. He just needed something so that he didn’t have to sit in the awkward silence that he had caused. Eventually, after what could only be described as an insufferable eternity, Fury returned with Thor by his side. 

“Who died?” Fury’s bellowing voice cut through the silence like a white hot knife through butter.

“Oh I wouldn’t worry, Nick, that’s just the effect you have on people. Maybe it’s the all black look you got going on.” Tony jumped to his feet to alleviate the tension and avoid Steve saying something honest and righteous about the situation.

“Nice, Stark. Witty.” He glared. “Anyway, wish I could stay, but I can’t. Have some important off-world business to save SHIELD from. You guys get to know each other. Nat and Clint will be arriving soon - hopefully with Bruce by their side. I’ll be in touch.”

Fury walked straight back into the elevator that was waiting for him, the three other men knowing full well not to say another word to him. 

Steve excused himself to the unpack luggage that Tony was unaware Fury had had them bring, and Thor declared he would do the same. Tony briefly ran through the floor plans with them and told them where to go. When he frantically explained that they each had a designated floor for themselves and his reasoning behind the layout, Steve and Thor seemed impressed and actually slightly surprised at the thought he had put into it. Before he left, Steve hung around the bar and waited for Thor to leave the room. 

“I’m sorry.” Steve sighed. “If I—if I overstepped a line. Before. I was just trying to make conversation.” He approached Tony. “I really admire you and all of the work you’ve done for SHIELD. And, well, the world,” he added. “I don’t wanna start this on the wrong foot.” He said, his smile never faltering until Tony saw it.

“Don’t apologise.” Tony insisted. “I just don’t like talking about all that. And, quite frankly, I’m not used to being asked about it. Not really used to anyone caring enough.” He smiled back. “So don’t apologise. It’s on me. We’re good.” He finished, with a reassuring pat on Steve’s shoulder. With this being the first time he’d had a conversation in which he hadn’t been sarcastic since Pepper, he panicked when Steve looked as though he was making a move to continue the conversation. 

“Now go, get unpacked. We got a lot of fun ahead. I think Clint and Nat should be here within the hour. They’re great, you’re gonna love them.” He chuckled. He noticed the look on Steve’s face; reluctance, uncertainty, pity. “I’m serious. Go.” 

_The door slammed shut._

__

__

_“Welcome home, Master. The time has just turned 4am. You should go to bed.”_

_Tony threw his keys into a tray that sat on a table by the door and fell toward the kitchen._

_“No, you should go to bed!” Tony slurred, attempting to throw a half-full whisky glass from the counter into the top corner of the room, but missing by a long shot, with the glass flying through the screen door that lead to the garden. He stumbled sideways and fell into the wall, eventually feeling his way onto the couch._

_“Anthony, what the hell do you think you’re doing?!” Howard’s words bellowed from the staircase._

_“Don’t call me Anthony. And I’m going to a friend’s house.”_

_“But I just heard you come home.” Howard stormed his way into the lounge, his frame towering over Tony, who was lying in a foetal position on the couch._

_“Yeah, I did. And in about…” he frantically pulled at his suit jacket… “5 minutes, I’m leaving again.” He smiled smugly._

_“Why couldn’t this friend have come here from the homecoming?” Howard interrogated._

_“They had to sort some stuff out with their mom and dad before morning so I gave them some space to do that.”_

_“Tony it is 4 in the morning. Where have you been until now? And what are you doing making all of this noise and—” he looked at the floor — “did you break one of our collection glasses? Anthony I swear on all that is good in this country—”_

_“Don’t call me that.”_

_“I swear on all that is good in this country you won’t live to see another day if you don’t pull yourself together, you are embarrassing your family name.”_

_“By what, Dad?” Tony stood up off the couch and walked toward the kitchen, desperate to put distance between himself and his father. “Having fun? Enjoying my life as a teenager? It’s homecoming for fuck’s sake. This night only happens once, I’m so sorry I’ve been enjoying it.”_

_“You could have enjoyed it by being home at a reasonable time and not sliding into some drunk girl’s bed—”_

_“I’m not seeing a girl—“_

_“After partying stupidly for a ridiculous amount of time with no word said to me or your mother about when we could expect you home!” He yelled, stomping up onto the raised kitchen floor and forcing Tony farther into the corner of the room. “At this time of night, whoever is stupid and drunk enough to let you sneak into their house isn’t worth the dirt on a Stark’s shoe.”_

_“Don’t you dare talk about my friends like that.”_

_“Why is it so urgent that you have to leave now? Can’t you see your little friend at school? Or at a reasonable time during the day?” Howard proposed. Tony’s red eyes filled with tears - he bit his lips together and forced himself to look out of the window, sniffing harshly and fidgeting with his hands. He blinked back the tears._

_“Seriously, Anthony, I’m forbidding you from leaving. Go to your room.”_

_“Don’t call me that! And you’re, what, you’re forbidding me? I’m 17 fucking years old and it’s my homecoming night. You can fuck off if you think I’m staying home.”_

_“Don’t you use that language with me Anthony.”_

_“DON’T FUCKING CALL ME ANTHONY. Time after time I have told you to call me Tony. How hard could that possibly be?”_

_“Go to your room.”_

_“No.” Tony squeezed his eyes shut in pain, tears flowing freely down his cheeks._

_“Why the hell won’t you listen to me?! I’m telling you to go to your room. What could possibly be so urgent that—”_

_“HE GOES AWAY TOMORROW.” Tony screamed, hitting his palms against his forehead and sobbing loudly. “He leaves tomorrow. I want to spend as much time with him as possible.” Tony admitted. He cried and cried, knowing what was coming next._

_Howard’s face went red and he began to clench his fists._

_“He,” he spat, “as in Ryan?” The venom in his words oozed from his lips, Tony begging the floor to swallow him whole as he desperately tried to fight back his tears._

_“Yes.” Tony choked. The silence dragged. Tony’s breathing stopped._

_Clenched fists.  
_ _Quaking legs.  
_ _Burning face._  
_Tense shoulders.  
_ _Tilted head._

_Run._

_Tony darted toward the door leading to the hallway, ripping it open and attempting to slam it behind him. He heard the door hit Howard - so he couldn’t be far ahead - but he didn’t dare look back. He grabbed the baseball bat that lay against the bannister at the bottom of the stairs and desperately swung it behind him, his momentum being interrupted somewhere along the way. He threw himself into the front door, grabbing at the handle and whipping it open as fast as he could. As he reached the bottom porch step he felt an almighty whack against his side of his right knee and fell to the ground. As he turned onto his back to see Howard towering over him, aluminium bat in hand, he heard a car screech up onto the curb at the end of the driveway._

_“Tony?!” He heard Ryan call from the car. Tony saw Howard’s eyes shift up to Ryan and took that as an opportunity to sprint. He forced himself up onto his feet, crying out as he put weight on his right leg. He jumped into Ryan’s arms, who had stepped out of the car, and weakly pleaded; “drive.” Tony threw himself in the back seat directly behind the driver, not able to award himself the time to walk around to the passenger side. Ryan put his foot down and the car sped away, Howard left angrily standing on the front lawn._

_“What the hell, man?” Ryan panicked in the front. Tony climbed into the passenger seat, burying his head in his hands as he landed next to Ryan._

_“He was mad that I came in drunk and then when he realised that I was coming out to see you he just flipped shit. I’m so sorry you had to see that.” Tony sobbed. He didn’t know what to say, so all he could do was cry. He kept his head in his hands and cried, with Ryan’s free hand gently stroking the back of his head as he drove._

_The car thumped up onto the driveway. Ryan got out and walked around to the passenger’s side, helping Tony up onto his feet and supporting him on the walk into the house. Tony shut his eyes and forced his head into the crook of Ryan’s neck as they passed through the hallway, cramped with boxes and suitcases. They stumbled up to Ryan’s room in each other’s arms, Tony weakly limping and pulling at his tie. He finally got it off and collapsed onto the bed, Ryan sitting beside him and stroking his back._

_“Can I get you anything?” He asked._

_“‘M okay.” Tony mumbled. He pushed himself up onto his knees and tore off his suit jacket, throwing it to the floor. It was soon joined by his shoes, socks, and belt. Then he ripped off his shirt, lying back onto the bed in only his suit trousers and white vest. He curled up into a ball facing the wall and cried._

_He heard some movement, some shuffling, and clothes falling into a pile. He felt Ryan curl up behind him, resting an arm around Tony’s waist, the other finding its way to stroke Tony’s hair. After a long time just letting Tony cry, Ryan spoke._

_“You’re gonna be okay. He’ll leave you alone eventually. It’s just an initial knee jerk reaction, that’s all.” He soothed. “It’ll all be okay.” He planted a kiss on the back of Tony’s head._

_“It isn’t just him.” Tony said. “That’s not all I’m getting like this about.” He cried. “It’s you. I don’t want you to leave.” He desperately tried to stop crying, stop embarrassing himself, but with every breath the tears continued to fall. He twisted his head so that his face was buried in the pillow. Ryan gently stroked his back, lightly kissing along Tony’s exposed shoulders and cuddling into him as close as he could._

_“I’m not going far. And in summer you can come see me! That’s only 3 weeks away.” He tried to comfort Tony because seeing him hurting was painful._

_“My dad wouldn’t ever let that happen. And besides,” Tony hesitated, “I’m going to MIT in the fall.” Tony cried. He felt Ryan sit up beside him. “I didn’t tell you because you were so stressed about your own move. But I got in.” He said._

_“Tony, I…” Ryan’s voice broke._

_“They said my grades from my freshman year and this year were so impressive they’ll take me two years early.” Tony pushed himself up and spun around so he was sitting cross-legged across from Ryan. “I know you still have to finish high school, and that you’re only doing it a few hours away, but I’m going to live on-campus. I’m sorry it took me til now to tell you.” His voice shook as he cried through his words. “I just kept delaying telling you because I didn’t want to lose you.” Tony hid his face in his hands._

_Ryan reached and held Tony’s forearm in his hand, slowly pulling until Tony’s arms were open. He went up onto his knees and pulled Tony up with him, into a warm and long hug. He took deep breaths, his face buried in Tony’s neck. “I’m so happy for you.” Ryan said. Tony breathed a sigh of relief. “You should’ve told me. We could’ve celebrated together,” he sighed, “but I understand why you didn’t.”_

_They lay down side by side, holding hands, legs intertwined, foreheads pressed together._

_“I’m in love with you.”_

“Tony.” A familiar voice snapped Tony back to reality. He turned his head away from the windows to see who had called his name. 

When their eyes met, Tony felt every emotion that he had been pushing down for the last two years. Of course he hadn’t been completely alone since Pepper. He’d still had his best friend and right hand man James Rhodes, but Rhodey has been stationed abroad for the past 6 months, so Tony had spent a lot of time alone. He had no one to confide in or talk to, let alone share his crazy midnight inventions with - until now. 

All of the late nights spent brainstorming over Thai food that had gone cold, splitting Bread And Butter’s infamous meatball sub at 7am, watching the sun set behind the Manhattan skyline from Dumbo, it all came rushing back. He hasn’t changed, besides a few greys mixed in with his usual wavy black hair. His smile - cheeky, wide, slanted - is exactly the same. The way he squints his eyes when he’s happy is exactly the same. The crow’s feet lines spilling out from the outer corners of his eyes are exactly the same. 

He’s wearing a grey chequered plaid suit with brown elbow patches and a brown belt, his trademark purple shirt tightly buttoned across his chest and tucked into his trousers. 

“Bruce.” Tony sighed. He walked as quickly as he could and fell into Bruce’s arms. He felt as though he melted.

“Hey, Tony.” Bruce patted Tony’s back. Tony stepped back but kept Bruce’s shoulders in his hands, taking in every detail of his face. Every new line, scar, mark...all the tiny changes. But it was still him. Still Bruce. 

“Damn, and I thought it would be weird with Banner and me, who knew!” Tony heard Nat say from behind Bruce.

“Very funny, Romanoff. We’re best friends, remember? Your awkward week of boning has nothing on years of consistent friendship,” Tony turned back to Bruce, “interrupted only by three years of abandonment and not knowing if you were alive?” He added sarcastically.

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that. Couldn’t risk being here with the big guy so...sensitive.” Bruce shrugged. “But I’m here now, lucky for SHIELD. Heard this place has been falling apart without me?” He laughed.

“You wish, Banner.” Tony said. “Listen, I need to talk to you about some stuff before this all goes down.” He walked to Bruce and spun them both around so they were facing away from Nat and Clint. “Y’know that one thing I’m super sensitive about?” He said frantically.

“Beth in Little Women?”

“What?! No! I mean, yes, obviously, I just want to see her happy.” As Tony panicked to answer the question, Bruce laughed at how he can still get Tony’s gears turning after all the years they’d spent apart. “But shut up! No. This is so much more important than that.” Tony insisted. “You know what I’m talking about.” 

He does. Of course he does, he and Tony had been friends during. Bruce had dealt with Tony falling asleep in class because he had been too afraid to sleep the night before, the minor inconveniences causing major breakdowns, the waking up to a knock at the door at 4am. Bruce knows. 

“Your dad.”

“Yes.”

“Okay, what’s up?” Bruce changed his tone when he realised Tony genuinely seemed scared.

“Y’know how, past the alcoholism, beatings and verbal abuse, the main thing I hated about my father was that he used to use the other people in his life to show me how much I was letting him down by not being them? Like with you. When he’d compare our work ethic or grades or whatever.” Tony said, causing a pang of guilt in Bruce’s stomach. “All that ‘son I never had’ kind of shit.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I remember.” Bruce sighed.

“So who was he the worst with? Who did he set as a bench mark for me more than anyone else?” Tony asked. Bruce raised an eyebrow. “Captain America, Bruce.”

“Captain Rogers? Guy he worked with back in the 30’s. America’s treasure, died for the country, blah blah. That guy?” Bruce asked

The elevator bell let out a harsh ding and made both of them jump. As they turned to look at who was on the other side of the doors, Tony sighed as Bruce spoke. 

“Oh, shit.”


End file.
